Stuck in the Middle (34 page)

Eve drew a noisy breath, eyes wide. “We could hold Vacation Bible School for the kids.” She looked up at Rosa. “Do they speak English?”

Rosa shrugged. “Some yes, some no. But they all like to learn. Joan maybe can teach them a little English.”

“Me?” Joan laughed. “I don’t speak Spanish. How can I teach English to Spanish children?”

Rosa put a hand on her hip. “You have been teaching me.
Habla español bien bastante
.”

A couple of seconds ticked by while Joan translated.
You
speak Spanish well enough.
She slitted her eyes as she dredged up an appropriate response from her rusty memory. “
Sí,
pero solamente un poco
.”

Gordy’s eyebrows shot up. “Sounds pretty good to me.” Laughing, Joan shook her head. “I said I only speak a little. And that’s only textbook Spanish.”

Ken’s hand moved from the back of her chair to clutch her shoulder. His eyes mirrored her excitement. “I have always wanted to volunteer in Central or South America.” His grip tightened. “And now I’m a doctor. I can really help people down there.”

His face shone with passion, the same passion so evident when Mary Alice Sachs spoke of her work with orphans. Joan realized with a growing amazement she felt that passion beginning to flicker in herself too. Teaching English to people in Mexico would be fun. And she’d be putting her degree to good use.

Brittany clapped her hands. “We’re going to have so much fun! While we’re down there can we go to Cancún?”

Joan laughed. She might even be able to interest Tori in a mission trip that included a visit to Cancún.

Ken followed Joan’s car as it pulled onto Elmtree Drive. He was tired, so tired, but he only had about an hour to get cleaned up and get to the hospital. He really should have skipped the Mexican restaurant, but he didn’t want the day, the fellowship, to end. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would be a slow night. He could catch a quick nap on an empty gurney.

This day had been amazing, an affirmation of how God was involved in his life in so many ways. First, his relationship with Mike had taken a giant step forward as they spent several hours together working on the playground. Then one of his deepest desires, to help poor people in other countries, opened up right before his eyes. And all because of Joan.

Her car pulled into her driveway, and he swerved into his own next door. He sat a moment, hands on the steering wheel. There was one more thing he wanted to accomplish today.

“Hey, Joan.”

Walking around the front of her car, she looked up when he called, a tired smile on her lips. He crossed the grass to meet her at the bottom of her porch steps. A big strand of hair had fallen out of her ponytail and wisped around her face. He caught himself in the process of reaching up to smooth it behind her ear. No. She was so beautiful this way, tired and disheveled, her expression so open. Like all her defenses had crumbled away.

He shoved his hand into his pocket. “Today was terrific.”

“It really was. I liked your friend Mike.” Her smile deepened into a playful grin as her eyes twinkled up at him. “Even if he was a little nosy.”

“Yeah. Kids.” Ken laughed to hide a flash of embarrassment. His gaze slid away from hers, toward the street, as he rocked back on his heels. What was the matter with him? Had he developed a sudden shy streak?

“Uh, listen.” He cleared his throat. “I managed to finagle next Wednesday off, and I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

He couldn’t mistake the pleasure in her expression. Something inside Ken lifted as he saw it.

“I’d really like that, Ken.”

A silly grin took possession of his mouth. He didn’t even try to hide it. “Good.” He took a step backward. “So, I’ll see you then. Uh, I mean, I’ll see you before then. But I’ll see you then too. Right?” He clamped his mouth shut.

She laughed. “Good night, Ken.”

Her low laughter sent a thrill through him as she let herself into the house. He turned toward his own home, his step light.

“Excellent!”

~ 24 ~

Joan knocked twice on Gram’s door at Waterford late Wednesday afternoon. Hearing no answer, she peeked inside. Empty. She was probably down in the community room, where she’d spent a lot of time lately. Now that she was mobile, the nursing staff had to practically force her to her bedroom to rest.

Sure enough, Joan found her among a group of elderly people clustered around a game table. At their center, four players jealously guarded the cards in their hands. One lady held hers close to her chest.

“Hi, Gram.”

Seated in a cushioned chair, Gram’s face brightened. “Joan. You’re early today. You remember my friend Myrtle.”

“Of course.” Joan smiled at the woman in the chair next to Gram’s. “Hello, Mrs. Mattingly.” She bent to whisper in Gram’s ear. “I can’t stay long, Gram. I have a date tonight.”

Gram’s head whipped toward her, eyes round. “With Ken?” Joan nodded. Gram’s smile widened and she explained to Mrs. Mattingly in an embarrassingly loud voice, “My granddaughter has a date with a
doctor
tonight!”

The announcement drew exclamations of approval from the entire room, while Joan’s face warmed. She nodded at several congratulations, and then spoke in a low voice. “I just wondered if you needed anything.”

“Yes, in fact, I do.” Gram reached for the walker behind her. Joan positioned it for her. “Could you bring my mantle clock next time you come?”

Her mantle clock? Joan bit back a gasp of dismay. Every day Gram asked for a few more personal items from home. Nothing big, just little niceties to make her temporary apartment more comfortable. But her mantle clock? That was . . . that was furniture!

Gram braced her arms on the walker, her face set in a grimace of pain as she began the process of standing. Joan placed a hand under her arm to help, but Gram spoke crossly. “Let me do it myself.”

Joan stepped back and watched, wincing in sympathy. Finally on her feet, Gram rested a minute.

“It’s getting easier,” she said.

Her pace was slow and laborious, but at least she was mobile. Joan walked beside her down the hallway, trying to think of an excuse not to bring the mantle clock.

“About that clock, Gram—”

“I miss the chimes.” She winced as her right foot shuffled forward. “I hated the thing when your grandfather first gave it to me. So noisy! But I’ve grown used to it over the years. Funny, the things we miss.”

“But, Gram, if you keep bringing stuff here, we’re going to have to hire a moving van when you’re released to go home.”

Gram watched the floor as her feet took each painful step. “When do you suppose that will be?”

Joan spread her hands. “I don’t know, but with the progress you’re making, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was this week.”

Gram’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I can’t go that soon.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a pinochle tournament week after next. I’ve been watching these people play. I think I can take them.”

“There you are!” Mom’s voice interrupted Joan’s whirling emotions. She stood in the doorway of Gram’s apartment dressed in pink scrubs. She stepped out of the way to let Gram pass into the room, looking at Joan in surprise. “Why did you leave work early?”

In the process of lowering herself into the recliner, Gram lifted her head. “You don’t know? Joan has a date with Ken tonight.”

Mom’s glance slid to Joan. “Well, well, well. That’s good news.”

When Gram was resting comfortably in her chair, Joan bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’ve got to go get ready. See you tomorrow, okay?”

Gram nodded. “And don’t forget my clock.”

Joan speared Mom with an alarmed gaze. “Walk me to my car, would you?”

A puzzled frown creasing her brow, Mom nodded. “I’ll be right back, Mother.”

Closing the door, Joan whirled to face her mother. “Did you hear that? She wants her mantle clock. And she told me she couldn’t leave before some stupid card tournament the week after next!” Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t think she wants to come home.”

Mom placed a comforting hand on Joan’s arm. “She’s been dropping hints about that for a couple of days.”

“But she can’t stay here!”

“Joan.” Mom’s expression became serious. “Think about it from her perspective. She’s alone all day long, never seeing anyone except us. No wonder she alphabetizes everything she sees. She’s bored out of her mind. Then she comes here where she’s surrounded by friends and laughter and activities. She’s treated like royalty, waited on hand and foot if she wants. Would you want to leave?”

Joan’s jaw trembled. “But . . . but I’ll miss her.”

Mom’s face softened. “I know, honey. But she’s only a few minutes away. And think how much happier she’ll be.”

“Did you do this on purpose?” Joan knew her lower lip was protruding and that she must look like a sulky five-year-old, but she didn’t care. That’s how she felt at the moment.

Mom raised a palm toward her. “I promise I had nothing to do with it. And if she doesn’t bring it up, I’m not going to say a word.” She lowered her gaze and confessed. “But I did talk to the administrator, just in case, and discovered they have a full apartment available two doors down from Mrs. Mattingly. It’s hers if she wants it.”

Joan sniffed. “Can she afford it? As fancy as this place is, it must be outrageously expensive.”

“She’s got some money stashed away from what Grandpa left her. But I’d hate to see her get into that until she absolutely has to. The only other asset she has is the house.” Joan gasped, her eyes going wide. “You mean we’d have to sell it?”

“Either that, or we’ll have to figure out a way to generate income from it.” Mom’s lips twisted. “We might have to start paying rent.”

Momentarily outraged, Joan drew breath to protest. Then the absurdity of her situation stopped her. How many other twenty-five-year-olds had never paid a single penny in rent? Sure, she chipped in on groceries, but other than that, her paycheck had been completely her own since she left college. All her student loans were paid, and her car was free and clear. Maybe it was time to grow up.

Ducking her head, she nodded. “I guess so.”

The doorbell rang promptly at seven o’clock. Joan spared a moment for one last glance in her mirror. Her hair, freed from its habitual ponytail, gave her a softer look, and she thought she might get used to it. She’d agonized over whether or not to buy a new outfit, but finally decided to put the money toward the mission trip instead. Ken had seen the red Maggy London dress before, but it looked good on her. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind.

She dashed up the stairs and stopped to compose herself with a deep breath before swinging the door open.

On the front stoop, Ken’s eyes gleamed his appreciation. “You look beautiful.”

When he held a bouquet of flowers toward her, Joan couldn’t stop a blush from warming her cheeks. “Thank you.” She buried her face in the colorful blooms, inhaling deeply. “Would you like to come in while I put these in water?”

He stepped inside but held on to the open front door. “Our reservations are for 7:30, so we need to get going.”

“Reservations?” Joan raised an eyebrow in his direction. “There’s a restaurant in Danville that takes reservations?”

She entered the kitchen and opened the cabinet where Gram kept odds and ends, looking for a vase.

“Close,” he called from the door. “We’re going to the Beaumont Inn in Harrodsburg. Have you ever been there?”

Joan almost stumbled in surprise. The Beaumont Inn was a graceful country inn well known for its elegance and southern charm.

“N-no,” she managed. “But I’ve wanted to.”

The flowers watered and resting in a place of prominence on the coffee table, Joan allowed herself to be escorted to Ken’s car. She grinned up at him when she realized he had driven the car to her driveway. “I could have walked across the yard.”

He shook his head, opening the door for her. “Karen told me you might be wearing heels, and girls don’t like it when their heels sink into the dirt, or something like that.”